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First I got off the train and headed straight

  • First I got off the train and headed straight for the shop. I knew he'd be there. I wanted to let him know what was up, you know? Make sure it never happened again.
  • But the shop turned out to be closed. In an oppressive rain, I stumbled to a nearby hotel to sort the situation. Why did Wallace Brigsby want this crappy novel so bad anyhow?
  • Perhaps it contained some sort or secret code or cipher? Perhaps it contained a terrible secret that everyone must know? Or perhaps it was time to take his medicine again.
  • these psychotropic drugs were fun at times but annoying at others; like when he couldn't remember how to blink. His eyes were so dry they squeaked when they moved. Didn't they?
  • Well it was either that, the new sneakers he was wearing, or his current job as a window washer. "This job is much more eventful when I'm high", he thought to himself while wiping
  • his face along the side of the high-rise. The drugs made every hair feel oddly sensitive to rubbing against glass. He tugged on a rope, and the system of window-washer pulleys
  • tied itself into a giant God's Eye Knot. That's when the Flying Hippie appeared to the window washers and the giant God's Eye where the Trade Towers were and said
  • 'Peace, y'all, you wanna puff?' Since they hadn't finished the Trade Towers yet and had a deadline for which they worked like slaves, they gratefully accepted the offer. That's why
  • the Trade Towers were built with far too little rebar reinforcement and so they collapsed so easily... His Ganja induced ganja conspiracy theory was greeted with
  • lukewarm applause and a smattering of boos, but mostly bored indifference. "Hmm, back to the Thinking Bong" he said and proceeded to pull bongloads for the better part of 2012.

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